


Hurricane

by collectingstories



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurricanes, exes getting back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:20:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: Based on this prompt from Tumblr:  I would like to request prompts #57, #70 and #75 with Sam Wilson, could you make it really fluffy? Thank you very much you are the best!





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written Sam Wilson

You had been avoiding the weather channel for the past week and a half, avoiding the talk of hurricanes that seemed to be a constant stressor on the news right now. It was better if you avoided the television all together. And so far, so good. It was working alright for you; no hurricane reminders, no inclement weather updates, no graphs of the northeast with giant swirling clouds covering your coastline. But you can only avoid the weather so long, or you can only avoid the weather when it’s on the television. Now it’s actually happening. 

The weather advisory that you could no longer ignore is telling you to stay inside if you haven’t already evacuated and while you think about listening you also think that the last place you want to be in this weather is alone. Alone and trapped in your apartment. So you throw essentials in a duffle bag and you get in your car and you drive to the one place you know you won’t be turned away from. No matter what the weather is. And that’s not just literally speaking. 

You park your car and take your backpack with you up six stories to the third apartment down from the elevator. Despite not having anything caffeinated all day you feel jittery and anxious. The storm, you know, but you can’t help that feeling as you knock on the door of the apartment you’re so familiarized with. The door opens, no chain, and you figure that he must’ve checked out the peephole to see who was crazy enough to come visit in the middle of the beginning of a hurricane. Steve, he probably thought, before he saw you standing there. 

“Hey,” he greets. 

You want to say hey back. Say ‘I saw you on the news flying around in that stupid winged contraption that you would’ve given a left arm and that you did give our relationship for’. But you don’t really want to fight with him because it’s been a while and you were so god-damn scared watching the news and seeing him on it. Scared like you were the first time he went on a tour. Scared the whole time he was gone. More scared then you are now but still:

“Okay so it’s storming and I’m really scared of storms. And I don’t mean to barge in on you but I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

“I was gonna call you. I thought maybe you headed to your mom’s.” He replied but stepped back and held the door so you knew you were welcome. 

“No I…I was trying to avoid the news, didn’t realize it was so bad.” You reply, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Your head is screaming to run back out the door but your feet don’t move. 

“You want something to drink?” He asked, walking passed you to the kitchen, he’s just as awkward.

“I uh,” you sigh, “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I wanna do right now is cuddle.” You admit. 

The words are like a switch. He shuts off for a moment, stills in his journey to the kitchen for just a fraction of a second and then he turns back around and he looks at you. It’s been a while since Sam has really looked at you. As if he’s suddenly remembering all of the times it stormed when you and he were still together, before it was awkward or you had to knock to enter his house. Then the switch starts him back up and he walks over to you and pulls you into him. Your hands are brushing against his shirt, wrapping around his waist and feeling for the band of his jeans out of comfort. He’s holding you against him, mouth pressed against your temple and he plants a kiss there. Awkward, unsure, Sam is gone. This Sam knows exactly what to do.

“I still got that old hoodie you like so much,” he tells you. 

“Okay.” You agree to the hoodie, and to him letting you go again. Just long enough to walk into his room and come back out with the gray faded hoodie, an heirloom of high school days that have passed by the both of you. He brings a pair of sweatpants with them and you accept both. 

While he goes to the kitchen again you change, right there in the middle of the living room. You strip out of your jeans and you top. Sometimes just taking work clothes off killed the stress of the day. Not today, with a storm outside and in, but sometimes. Sam used to tease you when he’d pick you up from work after school and you’d whip your shirt off right there in the car. 

“How long have we known each other?” Sam asks as he reenters the room. He sets down a mug of hot chocolate, swiss miss that he keeps on hand out of habit more than necessity, and walks over to you. He pushes up the sweatshirt you just pulled down. His fingers skim along your sides until he reached the band of your bra. He undoes the hook closure at the back and your shoulders roll forward just the slightest amount, a sigh of comfort escaping your lips. He really did know you. 

“I didn’t wanna-”

“You be as comfortable as you need to be.” The sentence ended awkwardly, like he meant to say more and you know he did. That he was dying to end that sentence with a ‘baby’ and honestly, right now, you were dying to hear it. But instead you just struggled your arms out of the bra without removing the sweatshirt. 

“I love Vicky’s but they sure as hell don’t love me.” You replied, tossing the bra onto the laz-e-boy and pulling his hoodie back over your midriff. You sat down on the couch, just as comfortable as you remembered it and reached your hand out to him. “I still wanna cuddle.”

Sam just smiled and sat down beside you, stretching his legs out onto the coffee table and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you against his side. You closed your eyes as you leaned against him, mug of hot chocolate in one hand. It felt normal, to be here in his arms. Like the storm outside and the storm inside your head had bother subsided. At least for the time being. 

“Could you hold my hand?” You asked, reaching your free hand to hold his. He obliged, lacing his fingers through yours. 

“Anything you need.” He reassured, bringing your interlocked hands up to kiss yours. 

“I promise I’ll leave once the storm is passed.” You could hear the sleepiness starting to settle in your voice. You were finally winding down after being so tense for so long. Longer than the storm had been on the news, that was for sure. 

And this time he didn’t stop himself from saying it. “You stay as long as you want baby.”


End file.
